


our town

by wildchildrun



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Comfort, Detective AU, FBI AU, Gay Panic, Ghosts, M/M, The South, Urban Legends, americaland, but its there, creepy old towns, its not the main theme in the story tho, so ya know, some homophobia, some spooky stuff, they're working in the south in some vague point in the past, xfiles au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-14 14:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7175336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildchildrun/pseuds/wildchildrun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>detective phil lester is known for his eccentricity and excellent track record.<br/>detective dan howell is known for being the first responder in the most notorious case of the year. </p><p>when paired together to solve a strange case in the middle of nowhere, USA, they realize more about each other and the secrets old towns can keep than either of them expected.</p><p>ft: a ghost town, urban legends, and a radio station of rebellious teenagers with nowhere to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**IN A BACKWATER TOWN IN THE SOUTH,**

a tall man sits in the corner of the only diner in a ten-mile radius. a large plate of waffles coated in syrup sit in front of him, untouched. he appears very invested in the mess of papers, some dotted with seemingly random Sharpie marks. his jacket is hanging on the space next to him, soggy from the night's downpour.

when Agent Dan Howell spots him, some of the tension that had built up in the last few hours leaves the tight knot it had created in his shoulders. despite the shocking black hair, he appears well-groomed, young, and not as insane as the office gossip had lead Agent Howell to believe.

when Agent Phil Lester sees a man staring at him, he gives a small smile and waves.

Agent Howell thinks for a second,  _blue._ as he walks closer, he thinks  _green?_  when he's sat at the table, he discovers  _bluegreenyellow._

he mutely wonders how eyes that colour would be categorized in a case file. he flags down the waitress, presses a five dollar bill into her hand, and asks for coffee. he wants to take a breather, but he can't. at least the rain outside beats consistently. it soothes his nerves. the rain in bumfuck nowhere, a.k.a, the southern United States was the same as the one he experienced in London and in Wokingham, dan knew rain well. the rhythmic beats gave rest to the oncoming headache he predicted. 

"hi," dan begins while reaching out to shake the other agents hand, "i'm here to assist you on this case." 

dan flashes his ID badge, an already practiced maneuver, and sidles onto the bright red seat opposite phil. it squeaks harshly, grating in the loud silence of the 24/7 breakfast diner. the only other noise was the soft jazz playing from the juke box. and even that was steadily growing louder and louder.

phil stares at him for a beat, and then smiles, "you mean babysit me?"

dan swallows, hard, and looks away, he wouldn't be lying if he said no, but he wouldn't be telling the truth either. Agent Paulson had debriefed him with the message  _keep Agent Lester_ _in check_ subtle yet present. 

the black-haired agent snorts, "it's fine, howell. i know what you all think of me." 

nothing in the agents voice or expressions lead dan to think that he's offended, he looks unaffected. 

dan only believes in the facts, and so...he thinks phil is an excellent detective. but there is also something else, something simmering under his skin that glows like a hidden moon, almost. it makes dan think there is more to him than meets the eye. 

"i, uh, i don't know what to think of you." he admits.

outside the rain pounds harder. dan just focuses on the burn on the table, peeling away at the edges. some of the nerves return, as the silence between the two of them wears on. he wants to say something, break the tension, but he was never very good at that- the people part of things. he was never very good at untangling threads either, but here there was still something salvageable. they could still work together comfortably if he faked nonchalance.  

phil is back to operation waffles, clearly unaware to the mental struggle dan had been having. 

"surely that doesn't taste good." dan remarks quietly, looking at the coating of sticky-sweet syrup. 

phil looks up at him in surprise, "wanna taste?" his eyes look dark now, staring under the thick black of his eyelashes. his eyes look like they could hold the whole sky behind them, shimmering in that way.

he's looking at dan, but he doesn't _know_. no one knows, but right now phil is joking with dan and he doesn't know. and if he did know? he would report dan, faster than his old school friends used to taunt  _what a fag_ if someone did something remotely out of the norm.

it makes him want to puke, dizzy with _what if, what if, what if_. so he shimmies out of the booth, and nearly trips over himself to run out of the diner. 

phil just stares at the space where another person sat, the air around him seems to come to life, slightly, buzzing reassurances. he doesn't run after the other agent immediately, just lets the heaviness of the day rest on his shoulders. it almost soothes him, the dead weight of reality. he steals a glance out the window, and makes out the figure of a man, shoulders hunched and cigarette unlit in between the bite of his mouth. 

- 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Dan would deny it if questioned, but he was scared. Maybe the right word wasn't scared.. No, he was _spooked_. The old rickety house was just... staring at him, looming. A federal agent wasn't meant to react this way, he reminds himself. He squared his shoulders, and moved forward, determinedly. After a brief moment, Phil smiled awkwardly, and knocked.

His knuckles coated in ashy white dust, that he paused to look at, and then brush away. Dan caught himself admiring the agents pale slender fingers, his delicate wrist. His old piano teacher would have fawned over them. 

"Phil, I don't think-" Dan started.

Instead of the grim reaper, an old woman appears, white hair still in rollers, "Hello, gentleman. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Her eyes roved their cheap suits, cheap watches, and boyish haircuts, with slight amusement. 

"Well Ma'am, we're told you're the person to see. That you know this town."

Her mouth tightens, "The first thing you'll learn about this place?" She doesn't say the next part threateningly, "It doesn't do well to visitors." 

A chill runs down Dan's back, and it has nothing to do with the fact that the sun is to set soon. 

-

They're invited in for tea, which Dan counts as a win. He can't tell exactly what Phil is thinking as his face remains impassive as ever, but he thinks Phil is pleased as well. This case was special, and the method of inquiry was different. No warrant would help. They needed personal experiences.

Dan looks in his mug, the tea's a clear yellow, and it's sticker than he expects. Despite his hammering, she diverts his attentions. Dan looks at Phil for help, but he seems engaged in the silly conversation she's intent on having. 

Apparently, the cups are imported. Dan really hopes his giant hands don't crush the cup. He absentmindedly looks at Phil's hands, but then he  _looks_ , because he can't help it. The man's fingers are entwined with the cup in such an odd way, so odd it's almost graceful. Their paleness complementing the soft pinks and blues cracked within the cup. 

The woman, Josie, calls over to the butler who seems to be on stand-by, and offers food. 

Dan says no. Phil says yes. They end up staying for dinner.

-

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> so. does anyone like this. yes. no. maybe so. lemme know :) and ill continue it :0


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